Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. He became a little less en garde. ‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. ’ There was a pause. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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