The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. "Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. Manning central in her mind. It will not cost you more than six hundred to reach your destination. Lucy's grin faded. His curiosity put itself into a question. The pistol fell to the floor.
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