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He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. She laughed altogether in her old manner. He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention. He became a little more personal and intimate.
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