She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. At last—I told a story. When you send for me I shall come back.
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