“Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. "It's not an offer," continued he, "that I'm likely to make, or you're likely to receive every day in the year. She knew that her voice was superior to Annabel’s, and she had no further qualms. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you.
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