"I have killed her," cried Jack. Cathy chimed. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. "Sir Rowland is murdered!" cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. The three young men exchanged expressive glances.
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