They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. . I too, Anna, have watched and read of your success with—I must confess it—some misgiving. “I can get you,” Mr.
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