“Impossible to say,” he answered. Lucy wore it every day from then on. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. You've saved my life. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse.
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