"Yon's a dear man," said McClintock. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession.
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