” He complained, handing it, case and all, to Lucy. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. ‘You’re speaking the truth. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. She sank upon her knees and unbuttoned his coat. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor.
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