"I have not many days,—perhaps, not many hours to live. “What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. ” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. Be warned by your father's fate. Promise me one thing before I leave you. One cannot trust any man at all.
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