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“Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. “Who is there to care and—John. His spirits began to rise. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. “A lady, Dunster. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid.
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