‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. " "That was my doing, dearest," urged the carpenter; "I was afraid if you saw her that some such scene as this might occur. He kissed her ardently. When I think of the love you give me—One ought to give you back love. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration.
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