“Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. I can’t stand it. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself.
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