. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. “But your sister?” he asked. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. He returned, “Lucy, you knew I didn’t live anywhere near you?” “I was aware. I’ll get in trouble. Trifle useful?" he added, slipping a few gold pieces into Jack's hand. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. Now, Sir.
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