” John said to Lucy. And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair.
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