. " CHAPTER IX. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied.
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