“I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. I told you no good would come of it. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. It was nothing like the big church wedding she wanted, but nothing could shame her greater than to have a child out of wedlock. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity.
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