Marvel," remarked Shotbolt. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness.
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