“What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. Goopes, she was sure was always high-browed and slow and Socratic. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. What would happen when confronted by the actual? He was young; she was also young and physically beautiful—his lawful wife.
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