” “Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her. " "No; she accepts it," rejoined Jonathan, triumphantly. ’ ‘A pretty tale. I’ve been waiting all my life to get out of this town. " That satisfied something of her undefined hunger. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp.
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