"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. ” She commented, only to herself. She had not gone by the name Lucy during those years but instead had called herself “Mary Lucia Iovelli”. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped.
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