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Surely he was imagining this picture. This individual apparently met with some impediment to his further progress; for he had not proceeded many steps when he turned suddenly about, and darted up the passage in which Wood stood. You understand what I mean. His fingers closed upon her hand. It was after all a momentary affair. I am. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. "When a man reaches the lowest scale through drink, we call him a beachcomber. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. I did it in self-defence. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. And now, Sir, have I kept faith with you?" "You have," replied Darrell.
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