The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. “No, I administered poisons to you according to the ancient tradition. Papa has sent me to be religieuse. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. ’ ‘Oh, this is becoming nonsensical,’ exclaimed Lucilla. I was grateful. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head.
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