The child fell within a short distance of Darrell, who, hearing the splash, struck out in that direction, and caught it before it sank. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. I sha'n't cry any more. Even though I knew you’d no one else to care.
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