" "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. Let’s go on climbing now. He won’t be in uniform. What's that short for, Lucille?\" \"It is short for Lucia. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime.
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