Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. When he left these premises, three years ago, I took them from him; or rather—to deal frankly with you,—he placed me in them rent-free, for, I'm not ashamed to confess it, I've had losses, and heavy ones; and, if it hadn't been for him, I don't know where I should have been. For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down.
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