It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. gutenberg. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. Lucy simply added her own good night, even though a significant part of her wanted to call Cathy mother, she refrained. She could not say who, not yet.
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