Courtlaw stood up. ‘She won’t. Let me go, Sir. Lucy was charmed; how peaceful the baby looked. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. Boys keep you busy, don’t they?” Lucy said in a light tone. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them.
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