Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. You go to your room and ring for your maid. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece.
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