Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. David Courtlaw. Of late, he has become the instrument of Walpole, and does all the dirty work for the Secret Committee. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it.
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