At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could; but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked, and Mr. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor.
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