In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening. Boys keep you busy, don’t they?” Lucy said in a light tone. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago.
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