“Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. Non. Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend.
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