The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. She waited for him to leave the room, and turned back to Gerald. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. Spurling. "I eat for both. ‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe.
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