"When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. .
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