" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. “Time for my Patience,” she said. " She showed him the locket; and he studied the face. “We are clerks in the same bank. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light. E. . “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. " "Death and the devil! what a cursed interruption!" cried Jack, impatiently. . . There was a long silence between them. She felt like a dried-up old woman. "I'll tell you," answered Jonathan, sternly. I have suspected him of possessing a skeleton key to my apartments.
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