“Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. Enschede halted. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. It might be three yards in width, and a few more in length; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and the waves continually broke over it. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. He brought his mother to call, and as you know the Countess goes scarcely anywhere.
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