Lucy sat beside him. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. She hated the manor. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate. " The order was promptly obeyed. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. She saw his face change, how he regretted.
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