Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion. He reached over and took her hand. CHAPTER I. You are very kind.
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