" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. “It was my sister Anna. It was bleeding again. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. " "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard. " "You're fine, too.
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