I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. Does that boy live in some sort of personal cave? Like, I think he might even be thinking about asking you out again! That is what I think. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. .
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