m. "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. Well, I am Nigel Ennison’s sister!” “Oh!” Anna said. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Gosse was backing towards the table. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants.
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