"Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. " "But, Mac. “My God!” and ceased to move. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. Ramage demurred. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. I put your clothes out an hour ago. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger.
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