I keep my finger on the pulse of things. It was. 256 Lucy chose her words carefully. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. The heavy weapon thundered against the door; and it speedily yielded to their efforts. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter.
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