But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. Something in his tone pinched her heart. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood.
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