“My Mom was a good lady. . I was always told my mother died the day I was born. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. Lucy had been ignoring her, not purposefully, but noticeably. She stood without motion and without strength. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity.
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