She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. " "Yes. I shall only pray that I may reward you for all your goodness to me. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. As such, you may command the sympathies of the gentry. "Then, the story of his death was false. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love.
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