But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. "A doctor? What he needs is a good jolt of aromatic spirits of ammonia. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. Leonardo was to me nothing at all. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six.
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