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There is no further hope. ” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. Dinner was served at 5:30. In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. There was—a service. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting.
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