. Come, make yourself scarce. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. I’m right again now. You sent back my Christmas checks. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her.
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