They shall hear of me no more. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. “Delicious!” she murmured.
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