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Courtlaw sat with folded arms. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. “Very good,” he said. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet.
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