Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Don’t be late if you can help it. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. White——” “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. “And you?” “Same thing.
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