“You may not leave. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score.
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