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She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. Wood, who looks after her comforts, and visits her constantly. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. "Got the rooms mixed. The job is easy. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice.
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