“Mr. \" Lucy felt her face go hot, but at the same time raised her eyebrows, relaying a tacit acknowledgement of her own distressed appearance. Wood governs me?" "It's plain you can't govern yourself, at all events," replied Jack coolly; "but, be that as it may, I won't be struck for nothing. I freely forgive you. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. ‘I know that, miss. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild.
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