It cost her seventy-seven dollars. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. " "Since you require it, I must obey," replied Kneebone; "but prepare yourself for a terrible shock. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. Not for me.
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