” She whispered. ” “How long had he been in the hospital?” Courtlaw asked. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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