—Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. You have to marry me. Strange, I could never learn her history. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. Stanley. Ennison reeled, and almost fell.
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