Wood, "it may be poisoned. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. That's a queer yarn. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane. Come on.
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