"Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. Michelle had warned her of the girl, calling her “Bitchster”. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face.
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