Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially.
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