” “You may be sure of the one,” she murmured. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. Don’t say the wretch was also following Valade.
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