“Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. ” He was silent for some moments. He jumps the words out of your mouth; he takes hold of what you have to say before you have had time to express it properly. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor.
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