"I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. It’s—Mrs. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. The terrific mental tension of the past few months —that had held his bodily nourishment in a kind of strangulation—became as a dream; and now his vitals responded rapidly to food and air.
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