Clotilde pried Fritz from Lucy’s left leg where he was clinging. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly. Anyhow, there it is: YOU ARE NOT GOING THERE. The job is easy. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. She began to act.
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