She had never said anything so horrible to anyone in her life. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. It would not have interested him in the least to learn that the tub ran on two powers—wind and oil.
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