[The Baronet’s Bride by May Agnes Fleming]@TWC D-Link book
The Baronet’s Bride

CHAPTER XXXIV
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But then it goes awfully against a feller's grain to peach on the girl he meant to marry.

Still----" The remorseful reflection haunted him, do what he would.

He took to dreaming of the young baronet, too.

Once he saw him in his shroud, lying dead on the stone terrace, and at sight of him the corpse had risen up, ghastly in its grave clothes, and, pointing one quivering finger at him, said, in an awful voice: "G.

W.Parmalee, it is you who have done this!" And Mr.Parmalee had started up in bed, the cold sweat standing on his brow like a shower of pease.
"I won't stand this, by thunder!" thought the artist next morning, in a fit of desperation.


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