The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. ’ Lucilla let out a peal of laughter. But not today. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. .
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