“Yes, John. This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’ you know. ” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. It's only a gentleman come to offer you his hand.
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