I suppose I ought to have been a man. "My sight is failing me. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. Their very furniture had mysteriously a high-browed quality, and Mr. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. It is positively hateful to think of it. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered.
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