She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. \"How's it going, Lucy?\" She turned. After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. Miraculously, her schoolmates were so upswept in their own summer planning that they had no time to interrogate her.
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