” Lucy and Sebastian returned to the mausoleum. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. A stomacher, fastened by imitationdiamond buckles, girded that part of her person, which should have been a waist; a coral necklace encircled her throat, and a few black patches, or mouches, as they were termed, served as a foil to the bloom of her cheek and chin. ‘Well, if that’s what the good Lord wants, then you’ll just have to accept it.
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