Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. That he had resolved upon its execution, whatever it might be, was evident from his saying aloud,— "I will do it. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. I have a few regular patients, and I take care of them in the morning. The ball passed over his head, and lodged in the ceiling. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face.
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