” Chapter XIV “THIS IS MY WIFE” Anna, notwithstanding her momentary fright in the middle of the day, was in high spirits. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. "Whatever you say—you, behind those stars there, if you are a God. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. “He dissembles,” he said.
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