‘Ah, Madame Joan. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. Let me engage myself. “It may not be just and so forth, but, after all, it is how things are. ’ Gerald started.
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