He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. "With pleasure, Sir," replied Edgeworth Bess. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. He filled her glass with champagne. She wore a wonderful dress of turquoise blue, made by a great dressmaker for a function which she knew very well now that she would never attend. . ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. She can be of use to me yet. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. Then blackness.
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