He trembled violently. He walked in her direction. "The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. It isn’t illusions—for us. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled.
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