"He had been many years in this country before his assassination took place. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. You are just necessary to life for me. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. Homosexuals weren’t looked too kindly upon in their exclusive suburban neighborhood, not even dashing handsome ones. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question.
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