The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. His sister followed. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. Its very calmness was frightful. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends.
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