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The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. . “Please forgive me, Lucy. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone.
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