The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. I wish to prevent a repetition of any such errand as I presume you have come here upon this evening. \" It was a lie: Lucy ate one forced meal a day, supper. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you.
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