McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Finding all attempts at conversation with his companion in misfortune in vain, Wood, in order to distract his thoughts, looked up at the gigantic structure standing, like a wall of solid darkness, before him. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters.
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