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“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. They turned the corner that joined Michelle's street to her own. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. ’ ‘Don’t call me by name,’ she snapped. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong. . The detective reckoned that his quarry would be up in ten days more. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast.
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