“Act three. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable. "Slip on the handcuffs," cried the thief-taker. The Chapel. . “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. .
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