They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. “I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. “I suppose, Mr. Lucy Albert?” “Yes, sir?” She replied, opening the door as Cathy rose from the couch and Larry stirred from his bed. Her eyes followed him. His voice now had lost its ironies.
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