‘You’re either mad, or in love. My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop. Just let him down easy, Lucy. He it was who formed the grand design of a robber corporation, of which he should be the sole head and director, with the right of delivering those who concealed their booty, or refused to share it with him, to the gallows. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. Wood.
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