"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. ‘You are an avid reader, I take it. My reception at West Kensington you know of. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth.
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