But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. " "Leave us together, my good woman," said Jack, putting a guinea into her hand. Lucy was silent. " "Impossible!" rejoined his mother. " "He won't be taking that. And you don’t know what led to our separation.
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