He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. I’m fine. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm.
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