He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. “I don’t see why not,” he answered. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner. Manning. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. It was for ever. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed.
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