They had been married for well over one hundred years. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature.
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