Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. “He’d better treat you right this time or I’ll pulverize him, you hear?” Lucy gave in to the hug. ‘Yes, very rude,’ agreed the major. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin.
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