" "What motive can you have for so vile a deed?" asked Mrs. " "I sha'n't want these curtains. . . “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Obey my orders, and you've nothing to fear. And, then, forsooth, she must needs prevent your hanging Jack Sheppard after the robbery in Wych Street, when you might have done so. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois.
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