“I wrote it for you. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. He looked at her reproachfully. —What do you know of Thames?— Where is he?" "Don't agitate yourself, dearest girl," rejoined the woollen-draper; "or I shall never be able to commence my relation. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. .
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