“But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. The third time she escaped she reached the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. “A lady, Dunster.
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