" "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. 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. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna.
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