The Night-Cellar XVIII. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. I love you—unendurably. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces.
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