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Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. It never is. I—I hurt myself. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. “I’m five years older than you, and no end wiser, being a man. ” He ruminated for a minute.

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