Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. There isn’t. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. The bridge was open. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention.
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