She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. "It's the boy's death-warrant," observed Jonathan, with a sinister smile. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia.
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