It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. . Something to tell you. Only a few, but enough for me to understand that some act had driven you to this part of the world, where the hunted hide. She became as The Tigress, a free thing.
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