Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. "There is nobody else. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. I’m not to study, I’m not to grow. ” He looked at her intently. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. “As I have explained many a time, Lucia, the maladies of the blood and flesh do not afflict us. ‘You have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused.
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