“I cannot say more. The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. ’ ‘No, no,’ the other lady assured her with a twinkle. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. Fear nothing.
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