’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. Too late. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. John. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. " "Oh! how much I owe him!" said the widow, with fervour, "for bringing me here, and removing me from those dreadful sights and sounds, that would have driven me distracted, even if I had been in my right mind.
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