Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. “What happened to your parents, Lucy? Is it all right if I ask?” Lucy looked at her with a soft gaze. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured.
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