Sheppard, who had been stricken down by the blow that prostrated her assailant, looked up, she perceived Jonathan Wild kneeling beside the body of Blueskin. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. Easy enough. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. ” “Two years ago,” she answered.
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