A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. “Lucy Albert, sir. Will you unlock that door?” “Never!” he said. ‘Who have lately joined us,’ she said, adding sotto voce, ‘A very great tragedy. "I must go.
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