Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. "He was hanged that left his drink behind, you know, master," rejoined Sheppard. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. A deadlock. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Spiders came out of their hiding places to commune in windows, industriously spinning their own designs over the stained glass.
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