126 Lucy drank them as the first rays of watery sunlight seeped through the mullioned windows, then put their husks in the claw-footed bathtub. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture.
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