It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. For a time they walked in silence. “Really!” said Mr. "For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again.
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