CHAPTER II. ” Lucy felt herself grow feverish inside. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. “Not much. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. ’ ‘Probably not. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house.
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