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‘When one is penniless, one does not expect a life of ease. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. ‘He don’t mean you no harm.
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