Lucy slipped upstairs silently. “See you at school tomorrow. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. Go back at once, please. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. To disillusion her, forthwith. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is.
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