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Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. ’ A reluctant laugh escaped him. “You must not. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. The doctor expected her to seize upon the subtle inference that there was something furtive, even criminal, in the manner the patient set this obligation upon humanity at large, to look after him in the event of his death. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. "A secret is too valuable a commodity to be thrown away.
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