" "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. It worked. To remove this obstacle it was necessary make an extensive breach in the wall. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you.
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