He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. Mischief bubbled up in her. “But I am your husband,” he said.
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