Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. " "I do not doubt it," retorted Winifred, scornfully; "because I attach credit neither to one nor the other. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. God help me. I sha'n't cry any more. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked.
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