Q. " And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption.
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