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To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. “There’s no one here except me. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Her hair once more was arranged with its old simplicity.
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