‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. I’m behaving shockingly, I know. Your life is like a funeral March. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable.
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