The woman shrugged her shoulders. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready.
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