” Anna’s eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing. “Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze:—the floor deluged with blood—the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. Lives by his wits and gambling. Those were dreams.
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