Surely he was imagining this picture. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient.
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