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1. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. Prudence shook her head. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.

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