I've sent for the priest. "Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. Paris was full, and it was by no means a retired spot which she had found. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force.
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