“Yes. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. " "Six weeks have elapsed since that fatal night," replied Jack. They seemed the most wrapped things in all Ann Veronica’s wrappered world.
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