It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. The momentary alarm over, he threw a piece of-wash leather over a bureau, so as to deaden the sound, and instantly broke it open with a small crowbar. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword.
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