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’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. It is not every sort of creature needs—these males. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been.
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