“Did they ever try it for themselves?” He wrestled his chin between her thighs as she tried to squeeze her legs shut upon his ears. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. Sepulchre's. It was only a few months ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry.
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