She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Sheppard. Wild," edged in Quilt. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine.
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