Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well.
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