" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. A cold shiver came over her. He had taken it back. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me.
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