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My knees bent under me. I bowed my face on the sofa; and tears, hot and fast as tropic rain, gushed from my eyes. I wept for him even more than myself, wept for the "dark-spotted flower" twined with the roses of love. I heard him walking the room with troubled steps; and every step sounded as mournful to me as the earth-fall on the coffin-lid.
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