“Call me Cathy, John. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard.
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