There was Major Price—you must recollect him, Sir Rowland,—he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. A creeping numbness invaded her. I’m so glad you’re not angry. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave.
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