Wood brought up. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. ‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. A cold shiver came over her. Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats.
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