" "Very well, sir. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. ” “He probably does not know of the relationship,” Annabel remarked. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage.
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