‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. " "How had he offended you?" inquired the widow. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. “Dear husband,” she murmured. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her.
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