Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. ‘And all to help me. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. CHAPTER II. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. “I will take a carriage,” she said, “and fetch my things.
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