Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. It’s a beautiful plant, but a tender one.
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