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A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. “Not a bit of it. I bored him. He was interesting and inconclusive, and the original papers to which he referred her discursive were at best only suggestive. His little doll. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. Then instantly she got out of bed and proceeded to dress.
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