On the way he confessed. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. He held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own.
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