“My Mom was a good lady. Eight per cent. It was a letter. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. "So the wheelman told you? I've always spoken it, though I can neither read nor write it. ” He replied. "No such thing," rejoined the jailer; "he's coming on business. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. ” “I am not afraid,” she answered.
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