"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. He called a waiter. You don't want me to spoil the story, do you?" "No. dear. I have given up painting. I'll keep it for your sake. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over.
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