Lucy slipped upstairs silently. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. She tried to think how people get work. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. If you will think only of one trifling aspect—the inconvenience it must be to us to explain your absence—I think you may begin to realize what it all means for us. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. Jack, meanwhile, with Blueskin's assistance, had set the table once more upon its legs, and placing writing materials, which he took from a shelf, upon it, made Shotbolt, who was still gagged, but whose arms were for the moment unbound, sit down before them.
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