8. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. “Difficulties indeed. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. Only three days. There was one letter. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. A bad man, in fact.
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