” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. There was no answer. ‘I was not born to this. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. This is the way the old thief brings in all his heavy plunder, which he stows in out-of-the-way holes in his infernal dwelling. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first.
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