‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement.
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