As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. It is not so. ” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy.
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