Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. She didn’t realize she was until one day she has horrible cramps and she screams for me while she is on the toilet, and then she screams for her mother. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing. “Much better. ‘Do you swear it? There’s no knowing if one can believe you.
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