“Do you want to ruin me? I shall walk back. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. I was grateful. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. “I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said.
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