It was cramped even at the end of the passage. She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. Relief flooded her. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. CHAPTER VIII. She became angry with herself. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. No tricks would serve. The sight of the thief-taker increased the fury of the mob to a fearful degree. I'm an old hand at such things. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible.
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