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” Lucy appeared and appraised him briefly, nonchalantly. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky. “I will send you a copy,” Mr. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. ‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. ’ ‘So did your business about marrying an Englishman seem to me,’ Gerald returned. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. His perseverance was amply rewarded. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience.
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