The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. Wood was once a favourite of yours. She did not twitch. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. She got out of bed, her eyes still half-closed, and stood slack jawed. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. .
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