He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. ‘Pig! Pig, a thousand times!’ Running footsteps could be heard now, and she knew that the commotion was bringing the nuns, just as she had hoped.
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