"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. For me that is all over and done with. "I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains.
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