Lucy didn’t seem like a teenage girl at all to Sheila and she knew it. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. She knew that the stairs they had to negotiate to the vestry were extremely narrow, and she had made her plans. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously.
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