‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. She makes me feel terribly old-fashioned. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them.
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