” He said mischievously. For all that, it is folly. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. Lucy stepped inside. An inarticulate instinct which now found expression. "I alone am to blame. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky.
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