After all, old P. The Night-Cellar. 235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. Anna looked at her curiously, and with sinking heart. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. But to choose this of all moments. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. The air was crisp and dry. .
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