“Not to-night,” she said. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. But the current rumblings of internal discontent across the Channel were productive of unease in certain quarters.
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