There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. "I understand," replied Rowland. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. He had scarcely entered the arch, when the indraught was so violent, and the noise of the wind so dreadful and astounding, that he almost determined to relinquish the undertaking. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair.
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