But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. She fell into a pleasant dream of positions and work. ‘That is good,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘for I was compelled on Saturday to abandon the chase. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened.
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