Don't feel fussed upon my account. ” “You have seen her—since last night?” “Yes. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. " And muttering some remarks, which we do not care to repeat, reflecting upon the consistency of the sex, he was preparing once more to depart, when Mrs. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded.
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