He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. On approaching the couch, they found Sir Rowland senseless, and extended over the dead body of his unfortunate sister. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar.
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