She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. "Thanks," he said, holding out a thin white hand. “What do you mean?” she asked. ” “I care as a man cares only once in his life,” he answered promptly. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. John did not see her until the last period. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night.
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