” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. We’ve done nothing to deserve it. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her.
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