“How did you hear that?” Lucy’s brows knitted. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. I deserve pretty much what I’ve got. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. We’ll have some buttered toast.
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