And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. She felt that she was not alone. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. “You promised faithfully to be there,” he said slowly. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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