Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion.
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