"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. 195 < 24 > A CITY IN GREECE, 589 B. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. Walpole's order to that effect—but not before.
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