Think better of it. . . ’ Lucy giggled. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too late. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. It is but a wild threat. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself.
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