Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. "A man!" "At your service, my dear," replied the jailer. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding.
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