These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. ’ He bowed and indicated the open door at the back of the hall. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded.
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