Mr. " Winifred's eyes filled with tears. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. " Bamboo and bead tinkled and slithered behind him. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament.
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