CHAPTER XXII. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. Hearl on HounslowHeath. ’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. As time went on, she began to think Martha had been mistaken.
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