But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. . You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope.
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