"When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Mr. ” She said in Lucy’s direction. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. “If I am,” he answered, reddening, “you can scarcely assert that it is without a cause.
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