Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. "We must marry at once! The doctor may put me on the boat and force you to remain behind, otherwise. You have been her guardian angel. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon.
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