“Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. "So has the butterfly evil thoughts. That bruise will answer the same purpose. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. ‘Didn’t mean to say that. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid.
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