He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. ” “Your sister,” he answered, “did me the honour of dining with me last night. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror.
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