"What's the matter?" he cried. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. I love you—unendurably. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. Wood obeyed. “To-night we are as we have always been. "Utterly," reiterated Jack, gloomily,—"as regards all I hold dear. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I.
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