The mode of destruction makes no difference. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. " "Never fear," replied Jack. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. His name was Sebastianus. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone.
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