Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. She smiled at the sight of him, and thereat his radiation increased.
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