192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. " "Anything like that?" "Yes; but the colour is lavender. . . I made her my unwilling confederate.
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