He was now a sophomore at Lincoln, Lucy a Junior, and Shari a Senior. He was staring at her, openly gaping. "I disbelieve the whole story you have told me. "Winifred Wood will never marry, unless the grave can give up its dead. I was extremely subtle—in fact, as devious as Melusine. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. It saved me the bother of being studied.
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