"Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. When I drink blood, I.
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