“That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. She reached for the door handle. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. ” He stepped past her to the door and closed it. Then she took her sister’s hand. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned.
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