“No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. But she had loved the man. Acting upon this humane determination, he impelled himself slowly backwards,—for he did not dare to face the blast,—and with incredible labour and fatigue reached the crevice. She crept out of the shadows. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. In any event, I brought her to the convent and we had her locked up separately, and told ’em both they’d be taken into custody as soon as Valade was fit to go. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad.
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