“The doctor has asked me to give them my reasons—for shooting myself. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. A pretty piece. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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