” “Yes. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. ‘I should have thought it was obvious. " There was a pause. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours.
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