277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies.
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