Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. ’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. ’ To her astonishment, Gosse’s servile attitude vanished abruptly.
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