She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. ‘Many things he taught me. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. She seemed honestly glad to see him. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. “They all catch on,” she said.
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