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I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. The night was now profoundly dark. She twisted her fingers tightly. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. E below. Twenty-one, twenty-two.

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