He began to tell me something—and stopped. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. And now I break the seals—for you. “I love you, you know.
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