So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. “Go from me, husband!” With a flourish he brought her arms behind her and her body was slammed to the floor. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge.
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