‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. Good-bye aunt. CHAPTER VI. She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test.
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