In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. The will to live had returned. “One has to be so careful of one’s friends and acquaintances,” he remarked, by way of transition. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. " "Peace!" retorted Jack, with increased bitterness.
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