Without Jack, it was certain that she faced danger if she went outside Golden Square. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. In a moment, Roding and Lucilla joined him. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous.
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