. Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. Heard voices. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. How dreary it all looks. The water was cold but she waded deeper.
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