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“It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1. I shouldn't talk like that. Don’t imagine that. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. "After all our pains we were near losing him, Sir Rowland. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company.

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