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The Yellow Face

           Mylipswerepartedtomurmuroutsomesleepywordsofsurpriseorremonstranceatthisuntimelypreparation,whensuddenlymyhalf-openedeyesfelluponherface,illuminatedbythecandle-light,andastonishmentheldmedumb.SheworeanexpressionsuchasIhadneverseenbeforesuchasIshouldhavethoughtherincapableofassuming.Shewasdeadlypaleandbreathingfast,glancingfurtivelytowardsthebedasshefastenedhermantletoseeifshehaddisturbedme.ThenthinkingthatIwasstillasleep,sheslippednoiselesslyfromtheroom,andaninstantlaterIheardasharpcreakingwhichcouldonlycomefromthehingesofthefrontdoor.IsatupinbedandrappedmyknucklesagainsttherailtomakecertainthatIwastrulyawake.ThenItookmywatchfromunderthepillow.Itwasthreeinthemorning.Whatonthisearthcouldmywifebedoingoutonthecountryroadatthreeinthemorning?

           "Ihadsatforabouttwentyminutesturningthethingoverinmymindandtryingtofindsomepossibleexplanation.ThemoreIthought,themoreextraordinaryandinexplicablediditappear.IwasstillpuzzlingoveritwhenIheardthedoorgentlycloseagain,andherfootstepscomingupthestairs.

           "‘Whereintheworldhaveyoubeen,Effie?"Iaskedassheentered.

           "ShegaveaviolentstartandakindofgaspingcrywhenIspoke,andthatcryandstarttroubledmemorethanalltherest,fortherewassomethingindescribablyguiltyaboutthem.

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