The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. ’ ‘By all means,’ agreed Lucy at once, and ignoring the automatic protest that issued from Roding’s lips, she threw a command over her shoulder as she turned to go. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. She always dawdled, so it was easy. Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her mother's infamy.
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