“But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. He was interesting and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive were at best only suggestive. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. “I don’t think I CAN do that,” she said. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. F. “It isn’t fair.
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