\" She thought of her kill. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. . Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. "Fold it … under the pillow. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. For a pity, she has chosen to remain, and it has been her death. So there is no escape.
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