“I don’t want children, Lucy. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime. She shuddered as his naked body pressed against her. We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. "There's his knock. " "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. The situation bothered him considerably. She crept into the living room and turned off the set, adjusting Cathy’s blanket which had fallen to the carpeted floor. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like.
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