" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “My child, I do not wish. In fact, it had been anciently the right hand postern under the gate leading towards the city. Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind.
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