“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. ‘But I was not there. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves. ” She laughed softly.
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