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"You still fear me, then?" he said, in a voice hoarse and unnatural "Is

it for what I do or for what I leave undone that you hate , for--"

"For neither!" she said, tre His eyes, hot and passionate, were

on her, and the blood had mounted to his brow "For neither! I do not

hate you, Monsieur!"

"You fear ht in that"

"I fear--that which you carry with you," she sta what she said

He started, and his expression changed "So?" he exclaimed "So? You

knohat I carry, do you? And from whom? From whom," he continued in a

tone of e?"

"From M La Tribe," she muttered She had not ht have known it," he said "I more than suspected it

Therefore I should be thethe letters

But"--he paused and laughed harshly--"it was out of no love for me you

saved them That too I know"

She did not answer or protest; and when he had waited a moment in vain

expectation of her protest, a cruel look crept into his eyes

"Madame," he said slowly, "do you never reflect that you may push the

part you play too far? That the patience, even of the worst of men, does