"It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. I'll put them in your room; then we'll have a look-see. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. Forthwith he presented his card. ’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald. " "Well, take a chair," rejoined Kneebone. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later.
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