“I was never so clear in all my life as I have been in this business. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. And now she was witnessing or observing the complicated machinery of civilization through which they had come, at length to land on the beach of her island. He'll mend, I hope.
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