“So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. I will return to Manchester at once. It had been her father’s surname, and it had sounded far more innocuous and American than Iovelli.
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