On this side of the canal she has no place to go. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. " "Never mind," returned the stranger, dismounting; "you'll recollect me by and by, I've no doubt. This is altogether insupportable. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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