The winters were terrible in cold climates, and she often had been driven to dig herself large underground pits where she waited it out like a mole in the cold months. They are the only happy women in the Orient. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. “Every one raves about her,” Lady Angela continued. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. There was a flash and a loud report.
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