"I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. I will be as silent as the grave. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. "I had a terrible dream last night.
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