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Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. I don’t care. Spare me yet a little while, Father! not for my own sake, but for the sake of this poor babe. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. I have had my day; and there were women in it. The idea of this sudden reluctance was elusive; the fact was evident but not the reason for it. .

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