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She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. Move. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. A large body of the constables of Westminster next made their appearance, the chief of whom entered the Lodge, where they were speedily joined by the civic authorities. ” Lucy gestured to the rough plywood floor. "I beg pardon," he said.
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