The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. “I changed my last shilling yesterday. I sha'n't utter a word. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside.
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