But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. "You forget that you promised me a kiss the last time you were here. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. ‘Well?’ she said. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream.
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