Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom.
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