“I don’t think she will,” she said. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. “The man who was found dead in your sister’s room was named Hill?” “It is the man,” she answered. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. He returned the locket without comment. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. “Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. " "Do you think so?" replied Kneebone, taking it off, and placing it on her finger, which he took the opportunity of kissing at the same time; "wear it for my sake. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly.
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