’ ‘Yes,’ agreed Lucilla excitedly, ‘and she has been telling us how much of a friend she was to your mother. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. It is only the women matter. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. There was no answer. But this accusation, for want of sufficient evidence, met with the same fate as the first, and Jonathan came off victorious. “Have you no understanding of your own advanced history classes? You want to look like a brainwashed Nazi anti-Semite?” Lucy became angry, her nostrils flaring. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured.
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