‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. “We were afraid that you had deserted us for good, Mr. Walpole, and then to Newgate. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. ‘I must see the lady who is my great-aunt. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me.
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