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I’ve just seen him. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. Obeying some fine instinct, she had come to the prison in a dark veil, but she had pushed this up to kiss Ann Veronica and never drawn it down again. She looked at Lucy guiltily, wondering if she would be betrayed. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. It would be easy enough for me to write an eloquent letter about something else.
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