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“I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. ‘In the bookroom, sir,’ answered the man, his eyes round as they took in the furious beauty at the visitor’s side. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. This is where my character, Lucia, is coming from. She had come across the wicked South Seas which were still infested with cannibals; she had seen drunkenness and called men beachcombers; who was this moment as innocent as a babe, and in the next uttered some bitter wisdom it had taken a thousand years of philosophy to evolve. “It really is not necessary. It loves to sit on your knee.

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