” “You can’t be killed?” He asked. “There is this absurd craving for Mr. “My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. You should have known better, you cannot die, so your body and your instinct will 213 take over as your mind departs.
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