That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. And, in fact, all round the problem you don’t know and I don’t see how I could possibly have told you before. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them.
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