In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. ” “Men,” said Miss Miniver, “NEVER have a reason. He had not remembered her as looking so small. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. Nasty, damp passages. He hated horizons. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. He felt the first sting of the whip. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place.
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