Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. “You are persuaded to come and take part in these outrageous proceedings— many of you, I am convinced, have no idea whatever of their nature. Thames Darrell MUST die. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident.
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