‘It does not matter, Jacques. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet. “I mean to,” she replied. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow.
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