Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks. It was a brief solitude, however. It was impossible. Lucy was silent. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room. This whole affair is truly my fault.
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