“Why?” he asked, suavely. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. "I am here, you see," said the smith. By various twistings and turnings, during all which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face.
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