She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. They are long gone. She would have to leave very soon.
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