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" "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. ’ He threw a fulminating glance at Gerald. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. “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. " The Wastrel rushed. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill.
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