“I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. E. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about. “I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone. I must obey.
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