He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it. Quick! Quick!" The order was only just given in time.
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