“I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. “Absolutely platonically,” she said. The five men students were a mixed company.
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