Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. Then came the shock of the knowledge that soon he would be going upon his way, that there would be no one to depend upon her; and all the old loneliness came smothering down upon her again. I'm almost sorry I've sworn to hang you. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature.
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