"His disguise was capital; but I detected it in a moment. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. ” Lucy instructed. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue.
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