” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know. Trust you. ” Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. “I don’t think she will,” she said. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. Will you venture?" "It is a hazardous experiment," said Thames, after a moment's reflection; "but I will make it.
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