Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. We fetched the doctor and the police. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. " "No," thundered Wild. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance.
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