’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. " "I've heard of him," replied Jack, impatiently. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. " "Not in this world," returned Jonathan. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. If this is the young lady, she can perhaps calm him. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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