Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. He was no longer in military uniform, and it was evident from his suit of brown brocade that he had been disturbed while preparing for an evening engagement. There’s the internal factor as well as the external. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. You were accused of having been seen with the latter. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you.
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