Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. ” “You can make any arrangements you like,” Anna declared. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses.
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