She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. He hesitated. These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. Besides the table close by loaded with books, there was a central table with upright chairs around, covered in a multitude of papers, inks and quills, and assorted unrelated items such as playing cards. ’ Emile’s eyes blazed. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. Shall I bring off anything?" he added, looking eagerly round. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her.
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