Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. Clement's church. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor.
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