So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage. He spent a good deal more money and time than he could afford upon the little room at the top of the house, in producing new lapidary apparatus and new microscopic accessories and in rubbing down slices of rock to a transparent thinness and mounting them in a beautiful and dignified manner. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried. “Was I that bad?” He asked. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm. Ann Veronica surveyed his sloping back for a moment, and then drew her microscope toward her. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis.
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