Good riddance. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another.
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