"You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. I should like Mr. Our ideal had fallen. Melusine did not attempt to speak.
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