"Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. " "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. Then he understood. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations.
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