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’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing. We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. You may have to carry them further and longer than you think. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. She would not forgive me. I have work there.

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