Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. ” “I don’t care. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. " He then hurried Darrell down another short flight of steps, and entered a small chamber at the back of the house.
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