” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. It was a brief solitude, however.
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