Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. She had begun alone. I have worn it for weeks and weeks. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter.
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