Closing the door, Jonathan next produced his lantern, and, hastening towards the window, undrew a bolt by which it was fastened. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. Why did you go back to your old look? Don’t take it personally, Lucy, but sometimes you look like you are trying to dress ‘poor’ or something.
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