If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. ” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. CHAPTER X. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. .
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