They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. “Yes, I remember,” she said. ‘Why, that’s it. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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