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As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something. “How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know. ” Her thoughts went into solution for a time, while she listened to a lark singing.
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