“Dear John,” she whispered. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. Have we not received Lady Bicknacre just this morning? Not to mention the Comtesse de St Erme. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. “DEAREST A—— “I lied to you. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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