“Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do. Trifle useful?" he added, slipping a few gold pieces into Jack's hand. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. "And I'll bet a doughnut that boy in his soul is crazy to have it over with. Will you unlock that door?” “Never!” he said. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low.
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