Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. “I don’t understand.
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