Her voice recalled him. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. "But you've given me what I don't possess. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be.
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