But the offences I have committed are venial in comparison with what I should commit were I to wed your father. When I realized that she was a liar and a mean bitch I broke it off with her for good. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. Wild, and his uncle, Sir Rowland Trenchard. He died when I was. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively.
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