The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. His curiosity put itself into a question. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate. So far the boy's mind was clear.
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