The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. You skulk in shadows, following an émigré. At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. People were passing in the street below.
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