“It really is not necessary. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. A woman cannot change her soul. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. Do not remain with me. ” “That is exactly what I feel.
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