“I believe after all it’s coming out!” said Miss Stanley. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. She spoke slowly. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. Tears sprang to her eyes. “She wasn’t sane, my wife.
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