You go to your room and ring for your maid. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. " "I didn't suspect you of so much superstition, Mr.
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