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"About that, sir. I lighted it just after dinner, while you and the major were over your wine, so to speak, sir." "I don't care for her hate," replied Maurice, carelessly. "It is a poor thing, and can not possibly harm me. But I mean to extricate you from her toils, and I don't care how she attempts to prevent our marriage. Surely Mrs. Dallas will not let herself be guided in so important a business by the will and feelings of that black wench." "Where is the body, you wretch?".
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The color of Isabella rose in her cheeks. Maurice paused, reflected, and looked anxiously at Jen. "What, David, back again!" he said, ignoring the question asked by Sarby. "So you did not stay to dinner?" "Yes," he replied, in a hesitating manner, as of one unused to speech. "She came to the library window ten minutes ago, having escaped from the custody of her mother and Dido. Quite hysterical, as you see, and bent upon seeing our poor dead lad. To pacify her I brought her, but as you see--".
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