“Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Hang the wench! Roding was right. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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