"When it thunders, the thief becomes honest," muttered Wood. Her hair was washed for her also. “What do you mean?” Lucy asked. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears.
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