Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. My little maidservant will think that I am lost. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair.
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