“And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. 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.
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