Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. But he could only discern a black and shapeless mass, floating upon the water at a little distance, which, to his bewildered fancy, appeared absolutely standing still. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. ‘I’ve had enough of this.
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