On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. I feel beautiful. She heard him come in; the light burned on. What his head conceived his hand executed. "The door's open, and the room empty. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move.
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