“It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. Jack's heart was too full to allow him to derive any pleasure from this scene; so he strolled on without raising his eyes till he arrived at Kensal Green. Wild never was the associate of thieves. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that. CHAPTER XXVII.
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