‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Then she looked up at Brendon. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them.
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