It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. She had a better voice than I, and the rest I suppose is only a trick. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. .
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