I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. But it was of no avail. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Then she went below. . His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone.
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