“I do not think that he is quite dead. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. But I'll never part with your irons. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. The moment she entered the room and he rose, she felt that she was immediately consigned to the circle of strangers; and it emptied her heart of its joy and filled it with diffidence. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. . Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave.
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