" "A bold resolution," said the woollen-draper. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. ‘I am not a murderer. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune.
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