" When Spurlock had finished the tale, touched here and there by his own imagination, McClintock made a negative sign. Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs. Let—it—fall. Sheppard, somewhat alarmed by this preamble. He had but to give his orders. I do not know if I will have to escape quickly once more. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company.
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