“It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. ’ As a matter of fact, I am not. At last his voice came to release her tension. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar, —where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter imprecations accused him of stealing his child. I rarely set foot in London these days. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. You don't want me to spoil the story, do you?" "No. The Closing Scene.
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