"All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. “I think that you are very dense. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper.
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