“Your mother was a Gypsy. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. “I want to know who you are. I hope that you did not permit her to feed?” “But I did! I did!” She sobbed. Lucy followed. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. “You will have some tea?” she asked. "How?" cried her brother, starting. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. But two weeks later he returned.
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