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"Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. He hugged her when he saw her in the hallway. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. If he recovers he may not accuse her.
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