“What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. “Any choice as to which of the Halls? You can pick and choose, you know. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you.
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