His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Mrs. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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