“But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. “What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Come to take leave. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. A faint anticipation of triumph showed in his manner and a subdued excitement.
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