The Eustace Diamonds. Anthony Trollope

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The Eustace Diamonds - Anthony  Trollope


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       Humpty Dumpty

       CHAPTER LVIII

       "The Fiddle with One String"

       CHAPTER LIX

       Mr. Gowran Up in London

       CHAPTER LX

       "Let It Be As Though It Had Never Been"

       CHAPTER LXI

       Lizzie's Great Friend

       CHAPTER LXII

       "You Know Where My Heart Is"

       CHAPTER LXIII

       The Corsair Is Afraid

       CHAPTER LXIV

       Lizzie's Last Scheme

       CHAPTER LXV

       Tribute

       CHAPTER LXVI

       The Aspirations of Mr. Emilius

       CHAPTER LXVII

       The Eye of the Public

       CHAPTER LXVIII

       The Major

       CHAPTER LXIX

       "I Cannot Do It"

       CHAPTER LXX

       Alas!

       CHAPTER LXXI

       Lizzie Is Threatened with the Treadmill

       CHAPTER LXXII

       Lizzie Triumphs

       CHAPTER LXXIII

       Lizzie's Last Lover

       CHAPTER LXXIV

       Lizzie at the Police-Court

       CHAPTER LXXV

       Lord George Gives His Reasons

       CHAPTER LXXVI

       Lizzie Returns to Scotland

       CHAPTER LXXVII

       The Story of Lucy Morris Is Concluded

       CHAPTER LXXVIII

       The Trial

       CHAPTER LXXIX

       Once More at Portray

       CHAPTER LXXX

       What Was Said About It All at Matching

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      It was admitted by all her friends, and also by her enemies—who were in truth the more numerous and active body of the two—that Lizzie Greystock had done very well with herself. We will tell the story of Lizzie Greystock from the beginning, but we will not dwell over it at great length, as we might do if we loved her. She was the only child of old Admiral Greystock, who in the latter years of his life was much perplexed by the possession of a daughter. The admiral was a man who liked whist, wine—and wickedness in general we may perhaps say, and whose ambition it was to live every day of his life up to the end of it. People say that he succeeded, and that the whist, wine, and wickedness were there, at the side even of his dying bed. He had no particular fortune, and yet his daughter, when she was little more than a child, went about everywhere with jewels on her fingers, and red gems hanging round her neck, and yellow gems pendent from her ears, and white gems shining in her black hair. She was hardly nineteen when her father died and she was taken home by that dreadful old termagant, her aunt, Lady Linlithgow. Lizzie would have sooner gone to any other friend or relative, had there been


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