Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. I imagine that even you must realize that this is of some importance. " "'The thief cometh in the night, and the troop of robbers spoileth without,'" said Wood, who had a text for every emergency.
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