It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. Everything was blurred. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. . The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. ’ He nodded in the direction of her pistol. All that was needed to complete the simile was that the girl should burst into song.
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