She never expected to get her ladyship home alive. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. ” She was silent, and in the gloom of the dimly lit apartment he could not see her face. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. It'll be advertised to-morrow. It would be swindling.
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