Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself.
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