But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. Whoever this might be, the visit seemed to have some reference to the carpenter, for, shortly afterwards, Sharples made his appearance, and informed the captives they were free. ” He sighed. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head.
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