In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. ” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. "Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. My father thought the latter.
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