"Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. "I know my life is valuable to you, or you would not spare it.
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