“What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. Ah Cum had no business taking him into the city last night. “Thousands! Ugh! And found it a worse slavery. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. . A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. " "Palliate them as you may," replied the widow, gravely, "they were faults; and as such, cannot be repaired by a greater wrong. Her skin prickled. “No,” she answered. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. The thought had not even occurred to him.
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