“I have come for an explanation,” she said. Shoplatch. Sheppard. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. That was how she projected it, and in general terms it seemed plausible and possible. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. “They wanted me to identify some one whom I had certainly never seen before in my life, and to tell you the truth, they were positively rude to me because I could not. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. " "And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan.
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