"Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. Stanley, consenting with dignity. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm.
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