Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. Daughters were not like sons. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. Lucy was silent. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled.
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