She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. ” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. Burn your palette and your easel. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause.
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