She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. "Shall I fetch it for you, Sir?" "By all means. Mrs. “How did you hear that?” Lucy’s brows knitted.
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