’ ‘I have found Mary Remenham’s daughter,’ he repeated. Vorsack. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. But to England we will go. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed.
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