” Ennison shrugged his shoulders. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. ‘I am not a murderer. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he. ’ She shook her head. " She had no reason to doubt him. ‘She gave me four separate identities for herself, you must know, including Prudence, before I managed to get at her real name. You must think it over. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. I’ve had it, Sheila. " So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper.
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