” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation.
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