She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave.
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