“You are a funny, a very funny young lady,” he said, “but we waste time here. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. ‘I do not know him. Prudence shook her head. A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. Think of those days in Paris.
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