" Winifred looked as if she could not indulge such a supposition for a single moment. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. "I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it. ” “How?” He asked.
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