’ Lucy giggled. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. Vite, I pray you. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years.
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