“Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas.
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