Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. “I know. . You see, I’m selfish. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. Wild is sure to be up. The hills surrounded her cave home protectively. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love.
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