"'Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. " "I see. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. ‘How famous. " He laughed and pushed back his chair. ‘So now you will please to go away and leave me to my business. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes. You are my wife now and you belong to me. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh.
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