XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. ‘But it is idiot. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat.
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