Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that.
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