On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. ” She stopped with an air of interrogation. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. “Rather darker than most of them. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow.
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