“A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. " "Never mind it, my dear Mrs. ’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose. " "I'll tell you really why I keep her in peeled paint. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. I haven't forgotten her previous history. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him.
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