"I have killed her," exclaimed Jack, dropping the bar,—"by your advice, Thames. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. She chose to hold her nose. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. "But you are tired!" "I want to go over the story again.
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