Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. She had no place she loved. He may not know you’re in England, but if he has the smallest knowledge of your character, he must surely be expecting you. But after the first shock came a warm glow of relief. I want you to be my wife. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing.
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