‘Don’t tell me. Give me but leave to try. He saw, without any particular regret, that this year he would have to forego the junket; but there would be ample compensation in the study of these queer youngsters. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. She looked at Lucy guiltily, wondering if she would be betrayed. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible.
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