" "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps. ‘Let it fall!’ ‘Brute!’ she spat, struggling, and he knew at once he had guessed aright.
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