. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. " "Hoddy," she repeated.
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