The McCloskeys had picked Lucy from a bunch of children languishing at the Illinois Christian Home for Children. Jack had been touched in the morning, but he was now completely prostrated. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. Just because I attempt to seek the worst of men to kill, it doesn’t make it right.
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