I've sent for the priest. ’ ‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. Wild," he said, in a sarcastic tone, but with great firmness; "a person of your well-known sagacity must be aware that some secrets are dangerous to the possessor. I'll talk to her in the morning, but she won't understand what I'm driving at. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably.
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