" "It matters not what I think," replied Wild. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. She looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am.
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