He was absolutely unable to focus his ideas. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. "Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. It would be the culmination of her plan. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft.
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