Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. Martin scrutinized Lucy more closely, but Lucy could tell that Michelle’s credibility had been damaged as her stifled sobs were heard upstairs. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. I ought to have gone long ago. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful.
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