’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. ” The lady in black satin appeared undecided. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. Empty, silly, coarse brutes.
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