Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. “I think—we all think that she is wonderful. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. "Mr. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. ’ ‘How do I know that?’ demanded Jack. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. .
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