Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. Spurlock mused over the previous night. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. ” “Not in the least,” Anna answered calmly. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. ’ So that was it. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. Here one might live the life of golden days. Love anywhere. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate.
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