But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. CHAPTER XVII. I’m not a lovesick boy. Sometimes when adrenaline rushes through a body.
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