Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. I don’t care what divides us. "So I did," retorted Mrs. To be complete, my vengeance must be tardy. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. CHAPTER XXVI.
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