But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. “Very well,” he said. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. ” “Did any one see you leave the flat?” he asked. "Friends!" echoed Kneebone, with a look of dismay. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. Thought she was a nun at first.
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