Lucy had snuck in the back door by the kitchen and Sheila was ready for her, standing between the stove 124 and the refrigerator. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. “I mean it.
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