I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. I want to get away—to go to London. ” Courtlaw rose too.
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