“But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie.
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