I guess she used to pick on her for being big and fat. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. “But I don’t see,” said Ann Veronica, “just how it fits the present situation. “You!” she exclaimed. The fever came. They must be for your father.
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