Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. Finally she fell into reflection. That's a queer yarn. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. You won't mind if I empty this gin?" "No. It is very possible that he will ask you to tell him before witnesses how you received your wound. " "That fiend is ever in my path," exclaimed Mrs. " "Only three days," reiterated the widow, "three short short days,—and then all is over. She had called the police on them anonymously. .
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