‘En tout cas, it is not up at all, but down. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. I asked him to take me away, and hide me. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. “Think of the mockery!” she said. He was there concealed, waiting her return.
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