I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Then there came briskly along the path towards her, an Englishman. ’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders. He introduced her as his \"friend\" Lucy. . ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused.
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