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It’s my choice, Lucy. Her anger died and she eyed him. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. .
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