"It is too late. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. I asked him—to take me away. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle.
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