For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. “Where am I?” he muttered. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year.
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