The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. Here we are. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be.
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