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CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. As pretty as its owner. Me, you may have. Modern, indeed! She was going to be as primordial as chipped flint. “Allow me. Two packets were committed to your charge, which you undertook to deliver,—one to another priest, Sir Rowland's chaplain, at Manchester, the other to Mr. ’ ‘I thought so,’ Gerald said with satisfaction. If she returns to the house from which we took her, her companions will laugh at her and smother her with ridicule.
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