" "Will you be taking a pole-chair?" "If that's the racket. ’ Her eyes narrowed. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. There was going to be no quarter between these two.
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