When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. ” “Is that so wrong, to want to live forever?” “It is wrong to if the price is murder. ” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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