He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. He wants you—or he doesn’t; and then he helps some other woman against you. Now he would take her away from the house before killing her, and no one would find her body at all. ‘You have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused. As it happens sometimes, the idea stepped down from the dream into the reality; and he saw it more clearly now than he had seen it in the dream.
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