‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. How many ends had he? Well, she must cease to trouble herself for this imbecile, whom it would give her very much pleasure to shoot. And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. What more is there to be said? She defies me!” It was extraordinary.
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