" "I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. Murder had become nothing to her. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue.
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