She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. “It’s jolly of you to come,” said Ramage. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement.
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