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We tolerate you for your genius, that's a fact. " "Is she alive?" repeated the widow. There was a deep groan, and the sound of a fall within. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. He saluted awkwardly. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. “They never seem so at first!” he said. \" They returned to his BMW.
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