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CHAPTER III. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. Her motherly features creased into anxious wrinkles.
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