So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. Now I do. Then you may have a bit of a chance. "Remove him to the Middle Stone Hold,—watch over him night and day, do you mind?" "I do, Sir.
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