’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. I feel years younger, a man again. Stanley. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee.
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