Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. " "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. “He has said something of the sort. Certainly not a gentlewoman. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. . As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation.
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