“Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. One day she desisted from her search and went unexpectedly to the Tredgold College. Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. Madame Valade was that kind of woman. Good night. That's why I'm so anxious to get her to a haven. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words.
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