“The one who used to live at Lyndmore. He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. There was only one sound—the fall of the sea upon the main beach, and even that said: "Hush! Hush! Hus-s-sh!" Not a leaf stirred, not a shadow moved. I was afraid that I might be called upon as a witness. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved. He pulled her from him to kiss her on the mouth and paused, looking into her face. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield.
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