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He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out.
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