Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. ‘Least of all, one who takes advantage of another’s misfortune.
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