“Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. “I am just back from Paris. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. She hurried with Jack as fast as she could to the open door to the passage. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. " Neither man spoke. I want to ask you a plain question, and you must answer me faithfully.
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