‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. I have—run away. The father was a madman.
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