"Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. ” Lucy chuckled at the sacrilegious comment, though it was a very old one. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered coldly. When a mere child she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory. The touch of her hands was pleasurable. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night.
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