She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. That was the only sound he heard. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window.
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