He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. Something as yet unformulated within her kept her estranged from all these practical aspects of her beliefs. “And yet I do it without compunction. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. ” He repeated several times that he would trust her, though it remained obscure just exactly where the trust came in.
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