"And you know it is impossible," he said.
"It is not."
"Not impossible!" ejaculated Harkaway. "Know you what you say?"
"Perfectly."
"Girl, girl," cried Harkaway, passionately, "the grave can not give back its dead."
"It does—it has."
Harkaway gasped for breath.
She was about to speak on, when the ghastly pallor of his countenance and its wild, haggard expression frightened her.
"Girl, go on, tell me," he cried excitedly; "do not play with me."
"Calm yourself, Mr. Harkaway, pray—"