" "Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs. “I confess it. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. " "No; it is only—what shall I say?—troubled. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. "Look quick, d—n you, or we shall never master him!" "Murder!" shrieked Mrs. ’ Roding blinked. .
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