The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. " That was true, thought Spurlock. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. Still, the respite was sufficient for Spurlock to look about for some weapon. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. " "Ah. He drew her closer.
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