“Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. She must not show anything. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. Wood;—"Owen—Owen!—Thames, help!" "Coming!" cried Mr.
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