‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. The Ragged Edge. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. This is the way the old thief brings in all his heavy plunder, which he stows in out-of-the-way holes in his infernal dwelling. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. ‘And then you will be obliged to remain in France,’ she pointed out. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed.
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