The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. The biological laboratory had an atmosphere that was all its own. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set.
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