She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. But the whole set of some three or four shelves were of wood.
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