So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. It was the grand nursery of vice. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. 1.
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