The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. "I cannot remain here long. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. You yourself supplied the details. Then the foremost bowed and passed on.
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