Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. He was tall, slender, and suave. " "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. She made an abrupt personal appeal.
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