The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. ‘Seems to me like you know just about as much as me. If there is any drinking, I'll do it. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. An old man and a young girl, the one as stubbornly offensive as the other. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully.
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