The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. “You stupid bitch. Here are their letters. ” He sprang to action. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. . “It doesn’t matter,” she said, after a long interval, “if they are absurd. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. ‘C’est ridicule.
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