She remembered Taber's hat. It was a dead calm. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. Not a scar but has its history. One was in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor business. When she came to school on Friday, she almost tripped twice going up the stairs. . . . And even if that,’ she added bitterly, ‘he must be also a person of a disposition extremely mad, that he can go against the family. Fifty sent home. They negotiated several steps, and then the stair turned a corner. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction.
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