“Child!” he cried. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. . Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. Then blackness. He threw her on the bed. “Who?” She asked. "I'm sorry, Mr. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't.
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