God knows how you did it. “Dear John,” she whispered. Rummage, my boy, do. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age.
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