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” She whispered. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII. Hogarth, and Mr. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. She loves you too well for that. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. “I wonder if it is.
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