"That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. "If you don't stop its squalling, I will. Anyhow, there it is: YOU ARE NOT GOING THERE. The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple.
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