Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. She loved him. Our ideal had fallen. “Non. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. But Darrell averted his head.
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