She flew up from her stool and faced the door. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. “Perhaps one talks nonsense about a woman’s instinct,” she said. Lucy entered the room. Near to these hopeful youths sat a fence, or receiver, bargaining with a clouter, or pickpocket, for a suit,—or, to speak in more intelligible language, a watch and seals, two cloaks, commonly called watch-cases, and a wedge-lobb, otherwise known as a silver snuff-box. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. His smile faded. She made me over.
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