"Yes, my angel, to her—rest her soul! She extorted it from me, and bound me by a solemn oath to fulfil it. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. He slid out of her. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word.
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