"Rowland," she said, in a faint voice, "I have not many minutes to live. I’m not Gerald, remember. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. “Thanks to you. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you.
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