There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. ” She awoke out of a doze, as though she had never been sleeping. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned.
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