She put her head out of the window. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. On Friday Michelle found Lucy while waiting in line by the soda machine.
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