"What?… Oh!… Well, good Lord!" He wrenched loose his head and stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. She had killed him. While he was thus musing, two horsemen rode past him; and, proceeding to a little distance, stopped likewise. You two can talk in Lucy and Shar’s room for a few minutes. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. Certainly not a gentlewoman. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score.
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