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He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. “I believed that he was the great multi-millionaire. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. She would never again be lonely. To settle things, you know. " "As an honest Chinaman?"—taking out the offensiveness of the query by smiling. ’ ‘What heir?’ ‘Exactly.
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