Lucy's ears were singing. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically.
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