She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. Gosse had hidden himself successfully then. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted.
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