I'll call it my wedding gift. Thing's upset you a bit. ” “Yes, Lucy, but you could make the same statement looking in the mirror. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. It was the grand nursery of vice. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery.
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