"Go, Paul!" she says, with vehement entreaty, the word passing her lips involuntarily.,
"Dear me! what a terribly unpleasant young man!" thinks Mona, at her wits' end to know what to say next. Tapping her fingers in a perplexed fashion on the table nearest her, she wonders when he will cease his exhaustive survey of the walls and give her an opportunity of leaving the room.,
"O Death! thou strange, mysterious power, seen every day yet never understood but by the incommunicative dead, what art thou?".
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