You understand what I mean. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. That’s where you go wrong. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death.
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