" Sir Rowland looked at her for a moment, as if he meditated some terrible reply. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation.
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