It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. “I suppose my levity is incorrigible. . Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. ” Lucy hesitated. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn.
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