His sister followed. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. I was—I was a corespondent. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss.
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