Everybody looked askance at everybody else. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. The hurricane had now reached its climax. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers.
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