Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate.
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