” “Lydia Languish, for example. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. A species of vertigo seized him. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. Why did you go back to your old look? Don’t take it personally, Lucy, but sometimes you look like you are trying to dress ‘poor’ or something. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood.
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