I can’t stand it. After all, that was life. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart. She would never again be lonely. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. ’ Taking the chair she had indicated with a careless wave of one stiff-fingered hand, Gerald felt hope burgeoning.
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