Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. "Is it you?" "It is," replied her son, "Oh! why would you not listen to me?" "I was distracted," replied Mrs. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. "We have had a sad loss, my dear Winifred," he began,—"for I must use the privilege of an old friend, and address you by that familiar name,—we have had a sad loss in the death of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere. Even now she was dazed. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. Now what I want you to feel is this. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire.
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