CHAPTER IX. . ” “Not exactly,” he answered nervously. I shall count it a privilege. "He shan't trouble you further. ’ Still no response. Lots of us are like that. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring.
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