He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. I don’t know if I express myself clearly. ‘Don’t rightly know how you make that out, you being a French spy and a prisoner and all.
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