"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. “Thank you, ma’am. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes.
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