Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. “I have noticed,” he said, “that you seem to delight in taking a topsy-turvy view of life. ” Lucy’s eyes smiled and a weary closed lipped smile arose on her face. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy.
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