Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. “Read this, John. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. She knew that the stairs they had to negotiate to the vestry were extremely narrow, and she had made her plans. "Where is he?" he cried. " "I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland.
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