Still —there you are!” He paused. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. Destruction everywhere marked its course. “A young man comes into life asking how best he may place himself,” Ramage had said; “a woman comes into life thinking instinctively how best she may give herself. ‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night.
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