’ Her features broke apart in a laugh. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire.
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