The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. Take me to the Stone Room. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald.
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