This mitigated her remorse enormously. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. Lucy aimed the firearm at Rhea’s chest. ” “But why——” Sir John stopped short. Wild allowed you to have your fine clothes again, or you might have been taken in a still more disgraceful garb. I do swear. It depresses one, you know.
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