“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. "There is nobody else. ’ Her hand shook as he took it in his, and she uttered involuntarily, ‘Oh, it was so horrible! They came like animals, with long knives that they use to cut grass, and heavy clubs.
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