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“No reason. "But I tell you frankly, and Mr. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. I asked him to take me away, and hide me. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Very soon she would be able to forget it. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. . "But you are tired!" "I want to go over the story again. ‘I thank you. This was rather too much to expect; for we all know, if Mr. \" She waved. “I want to ask you a question,” he said. And then suddenly—a relief.
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