’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. Nothing would induce me to marry you, or any man at present. “I am not in need of any. ‘What a fate he finds for me. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. “I am lonely. This time they would call it murder. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing.
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