"My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. But shortly this movement ceased. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. And―and he wanted to help you. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. Wood from pressing his suit long ago. But I dare not accept it. You are in the hands of a wicked, a terrible man, who will not stop till he has completed your destruction. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness.
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