"But, I own, I think it is like. He gripped the window-sill behind him. I’ve never had these crying fits before. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. Then she fell into a fever of remorse for the habit of bad language she had acquired. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. ” “You will shake hands with me, please,” she begged. Damn! I’ve splashed.
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