Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. It was Annabel who spoke. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. “Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. So, let's think no more about it.
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