She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. He had bled everywhere, but she had struck when the opportunity was ripe. Miss Charvill. “Turn me. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house.
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