She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. At least here she was safe. ’ Thus adjured, but mindful of Trodger’s orders, the militiaman went down the hall backwards, his eyes fixed on the prisoner. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. ” She rolled over on her face, and stuffed her fingers in her ears to shut out the rhythm from her mind.
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