In other respects, they were equally indecorous and offensive. “Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. "And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested. .
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