There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. You're in a more serious scrape than you imagine. But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night and look round. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. The important secret remained locked in my breast, but I resolved to be avenged. She isn't used to cities.
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