She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. “Oh, Lucy. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. ’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door.
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