Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way. Would Gerald wish his friend to follow the man? He had hardly registered the decision that he had best do so, albeit with some reluctance, when his trained senses alerted him to an extraordinary circumstance. . . And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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