Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. “I think you are getting to understand me better. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds— whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. ” “He was probably right,” she declared. " "Jacobite!" echoed Mrs. Spurling's sooty imp, Caliban.
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