. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. A phase of mental activity that men called courage: to summon at will this energy which barred the ingress of the long cold fingers of fear, which cleared the throat of stuffiness and kept the glance level and ever forward. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence.
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