She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. " "You have always spoken it?" "Yes; except for some native. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace.
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