"The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. Without you I should never have recovered either health or reason. "Give them what you please. Don’t be frightened, dear. You might even tire of me by then, you know. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine.
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