At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. We have met before. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird.
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