Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. I hated the stuff. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. Kneebone, then, sat down to await the arrival of his expected guest. I find you an impenetrable enigma. ‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail.
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