They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass.
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