He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. " "Hum!" exclaimed Jonathan. His voice now had lost its ironies. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. To divide the agony into two spheres so that one would mitigate the other. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. Almost had Martha won out. That’s one thing clear.
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