I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. We have lived under the same roof, but our ways seem to have lain wide apart. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Hitherto you’ve seen only my easy, kindly side.
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