ToC If there is one thing on earth, more lovely than another, it is a fair girl of the tender age of Winifred Wood! Her beauty awakens no feeling beyond that of admiration. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. ” He made a little noise in his throat as if something had cried out within him, and for a time they were both too full for speech.
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