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Page 193

CHAPTER TWELVE

"A month ago," Elita replied. "I have stayed here hidden ever since ... But I have got to get away, someone has got to help me ... I have friends who will take me ... to Spain. I shall be safe there ... from those ... who have ... murdered my father.... Yes ... murdered him!"
She was sobbing now, harsh, heartrending sobs that seemed to shake her whole body as if with an ague.
" Who knows of this?" Lizbeth asked ; and then, as Elita seemed not to hear her, she put her hand on the girl's shoulder as if to command her attention.
" Who knows of this?" she repeated.
Elita raised her haunted, tear-stained face.
" How do I know who knows of it? They may be playing with me ; they may be trying to trap me ; but if they think the house is empty, they will go away and I shall be safe ... safe."
She was half-crazed with terror, Lizbeth could see that, but for the moment she had no pity, only a desire to learn more of Francis.
" You say that Francis gave a false name," she said. "Who knows that his name was false?"
" Only those who were there that night," Elita replied. "Two of them escaped. They came here and told me what had happened. My father was ... dead by then and they had lain hidden in a friend's house in the neighbourhood until the chase was over. They told me what had occurred and then they ... left me. I pleaded with them to take me with them, but ... they would not do so."
There was despair in Elita's voice now.
" I am safe as long as they can't find me ... safe until I can reach Spain." She put her hands to her face.
Lizbeth turned towards the door. Francis was dead. The realization of what Elita had told her was beginning to seep through the numbness which had been hers from the moment when the blow struck home. Francis was dead-lazy, indolent, easy-going Francis, who had wanted only to lie in the sun and write poems.
He had died because he had let himself be persuaded by his so-called friends into taking a part in their nefarious schemes. Francis was no intriguer, he was not clever enough

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE "A month ago," Elita replied. "I have stayed here hidden ever since ... But I have got to get away, someone has got to help me ... I have friends who will take me ... to Spain. I shall be safe there ... from those ... who have ... murdered my father.... Yes ... murdered him!" She was sobbing now, harsh, heartrending sobs that seemed to shake her whole body as if with an ague. "Who knows of this?" Lizbeth asked ; and then, as Elita seemed not to hear her, she put her hand on what is girl's shoulder as if to command her attention. "Who knows of this?" she repeated. Elita raised her haunted, tear-stained face. "How do I know who knows of it? They may be playing with me ; they may be trying to trap me ; but if they think what is house is empty, they will go away and I shall be safe ... safe." She was half-crazed with terror, Lizbeth could see that, but for what is moment she had no pity, only a desire to learn more of Francis. "You say that Francis gave a false name," she said. "Who knows that his name was false?" "Only those who were there that night," Elita replied. "Two of them escaped. They came here and told me what had happened. My father was ... dead by then and they had lain hidden in a friend's house in what is neighbourhood until what is chase was over. They told me what had occurred and then they ... left me. I pleaded with them to take me with them, but ... they would not do so." There was despair in Elita's voice now. "I am safe as long as they can't find me ... safe until I can reach Spain." She put her hands to her face. Lizbeth turned towards what is door. Francis was dead. what is realization of what Elita had told her was beginning to seep through what is numbness which had been hers from what is moment when what is blow struck home. Francis was dead-lazy, indolent, easy-going Francis, who had wanted only to lie in what is sun and write poems. He had died because he had let himself be persuaded by his so-called friends into taking a part in their nefarious schemes. Francis was no intriguer, he was not clever enough where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Elizabethan Lover (1953) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 193 where is strong CHAPTER TWELVE where is p align="justify" "A month ago," Elita replied. "I have stayed here hidden ever since ... But I have got to get away, someone has got to help me ... I have friends who will take me ... to Spain. I shall be safe there ... from those ... who have ... murdered my father.... Yes ... murdered him!" She was sobbing now, harsh, heartrending sobs that seemed to shake her whole body as if with an ague. " Who knows of this?" Lizbeth asked ; and then, as Elita seemed not to hear her, she put her hand on what is girl's shoulder as if to command her attention. " Who knows of this?" she repeated. Elita raised her haunted, tear-stained face. " How do I know who knows of it? They may be playing with me ; they may be trying to trap me ; but if they think what is house is empty, they will go away and I shall be safe ... safe." She was half-crazed with terror, Lizbeth could see that, but for what is moment she had no pity, only a desire to learn more of Francis. " You say that Francis gave a false name," she said. "Who knows that his name was false?" " Only those who were there that night," Elita replied. "Two of them escaped. They came here and told me what had happened. My father was ... dead by then and they had lain hidden in a friend's house in what is neighbourhood until what is chase was over. They told me what had occurred and then they ... left me. I pleaded with them to take me with them, but ... they would not do so." There was despair in Elita's voice now. " I am safe as long as they can't find me ... safe until I can reach Spain." She put her hands to her face. Lizbeth turned towards what is door. Francis was dead. what is realization of what Elita had told her was beginning to seep through what is numbness which had been hers from what is moment when what is blow struck home. Francis was dead-lazy, indolent, easy-going Francis, who had wanted only to lie in what is sun and write poems. He had died because he had let himself be persuaded by his so-called friends into taking a part in their nefarious schemes. Francis was no intriguer, he was not clever enough where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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