It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse.
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