‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. ‘That is good. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. “I’m going to kill your weakness for you. I don’t think any surroundings could throw a shadow on you. I shouldn't care to have attention constantly drawn to us. ” He spoke loudly.
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