\" Lucy fought to resist the compulsion to 45 fold her arms over her chest. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill.
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