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" Neither man spoke. The Night-Cellar. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. My whole life shall be devoted to you, beloved girl. Still no sound. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. One thing may be a necessary collateral of the others. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. " "O Heavens!" screamed Winifred, while her father lifted up his hands in silent horror.
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