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The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. "I'll see him fettered myself. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. net/1/5/6/1/15614/ Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Clare Elliott and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

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