" "How do you manage that, Mr. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. But why didn't you let me know they were coming. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. ‘Always he is busy about my affairs. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror.
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