Stanley coughed and faced toward the house. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. You're not afraid, Mr. But you are Annabel. The affair was thick with sinister suggestions. He had hired not one but two engineers to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own meager pocket. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire.
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