” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. " "Nothing in the pockets. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. ‘I do not know if even I can do anything now. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet.
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