“I am a fool,” he said. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. " The Wastrel advanced. I want to be with you. There is a small yewtree west of the church.
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