ToC "How do you mean to act, Sir?" inquired Trenchard, as soon as they were left alone. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come.
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