Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. In a moment they were in the street outside. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms.
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