"No!" she cried. " "You mustn't talk. Wood will be here presently. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open. .
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