‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. “I am convinced you haven’t thought this out,” he went on. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. It was hard to resist.
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