It was decrepit and too large. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again. For freedom at least. . "That's a good story, lad.
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