’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. And probably the girl would wear herself out, too.
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