"But what is an oath to you!" cried the widow, distrustfully. "You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs. Only a book detective could dope this out. He dropped the key on the counterpane. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. Mr.
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