"Gone," replied the wounded man. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. In doing this, he chanced to raise his eyes and half fancied he beheld, shaded by a pillar at the extremity of the western aisle, the horrible countenance of the thief-taker. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. Really they are the most beautiful things in the world. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent.
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