" "Iss, Massa Ireton," replied the black. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. There’s plenty to be got out of life in a decent sort of way. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. I have been stupid and foolish.
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