He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. He stood back and held her shoulders. " Without another word, and accompanied by Thames, he then took his way to Dollis Hill in a state of the deepest depression. He had a wild impulse to shout. “Lucy. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury.
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