“I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. ” She was able to go straight to her room without delay, and she at once locked the door with a little sigh of relief. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon.
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