She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. But it was very hard to follow.
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