“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. Sir Montacute had three children—two daughters and yourself. When I've placed another skull and another halter beside them, I shall be contented. But he has since acquitted you of any share in it.
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