Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets.
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