But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. She'll have this hour always with her; and you failed her. Don't feel fussed upon my account. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. It is of no use. They will say that it was murder. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself.
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