\"Today's Friday, isn't it?\" Lucy remembered. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief.
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