Lucy did not suspect the date would be an issue, considering Cathy's rather liberal attitude towards dating in general. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. Promise me. She looked down tassels of his shiny shoes with a scowl. Just a formal marriage.
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