"Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. A curious silence ensued. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. He wore a silk hat a little tilted, and a morning coat buttoned round a tight, contained figure; and a white slip gave a finish to his costume and endorsed the quiet distinction of his tie.
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