" "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. ‘You were right, miss. Are we to see him here?" "Yes, my love. ’ ‘She is no longer a mystery,’ Gerald said. He opened the drawer of the writing table. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion.
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