“Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. At this moment, a coach passed them, and was instantly hailed by Thames. The latter had delivered himself from one of his assailants, the attendant, Davies. “Yes?” he said.
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