“May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us. “She’s sensitive soul, far too sensitive to be married to an ass like Gianfrancesco. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Nobody can trust you. There was no answer. Then she called a hansom and drove home. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Salvation. ” “The inference is, then,” the detective said smoothly, “that this man obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your return. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him.
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