I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. You do not love your husband, you have married him for a position —to escape from—things which you feared. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. “Forty guineas a week. To appreciate it you should try rooms. O'Higgins, but I decline to give you the least information.
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