"Remove him to the Middle Stone Hold,—watch over him night and day, do you mind?" "I do, Sir. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. There he stands. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. " "What for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours. “I suppose delusions are not uncommon to patients in his condition. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge.
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