They had completed a circuit of the mansion before Roding’s frustration burst out. 3. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off.
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