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The priest normally assigned the duty in the Iovelli family had fled days before from the chapel. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. The Night-Cellar XVIII. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. " "Ay, but he will.
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