” She controlled a sob. ” “I heard she was wanted for a murder. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. ” Lucy begged. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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