‘But I was not there. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. She shook her head. \"Mike, don't call Lucy a liar. "Quick. I might have told you the truth.
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