. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. She would not forgive me. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. "Adieu, my worthy uncle.
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