"More than you'll pay for it, friend," snuffled the Jew. There was another little thing he had to say. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. There is the key. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. She had called the police on them anonymously. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand.
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