Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. And many of these deaths could be avoided if it were not for superstition. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object.
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