It was apparent, and then it faded into the quality of an inevitable necessity. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. "Is she alive?" "She is not," replied Trenchard, overcome by conflicting emotions, and unable to endure the boy's agonized look.
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