He went over her features one by one in his mind. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced.
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