The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. “Well,” she admitted. "There is Dollis Hill," said the man, pointing to a well-wooded eminence about a mile distant, "and there," he added, indicating the roof of a house just visible above a grove of trees "is Mr.
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