“It was poison—why not?” she answered. CHAPTER XIII. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. "Write as follows," continued Jack. Silken open robes over full tiffany petticoats in a contrasting colour were, Lucy assured him, of the very latest Parisian design, cut by the finest French tailors. Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life.
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