Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. She had not at first the power for concealment. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother.
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