A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. "Let us fly from this frightful place. “A very clear statement, madam,” he said. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt.
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