The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. " "You have heard my fixed determination, villain," cried Mrs. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility.
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