“What do you mean?” Lucy asked. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. For two years he thought himself secure; and, secretly engaged in the Jacobite schemes of the time, in which, also, Sir Cecil was deeply involved, he began to relax in his watchfulness over Aliva.
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