’ ‘Then what?’ demanded Lucilla in a hushed tone. She will not confide in me. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Decidedly this was imbecile.
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