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"I yield to fate. gutenberg. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Besides, she had admitted her identity. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room.
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