Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. Why, is the question I would like answered. ’ He bowed slightly, and indicated the house behind them with a wave of his hand.
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