"But I tell you frankly, and Mr. In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. One day it was gone. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type.
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