“There I can’t help,” said Capes. She had no idea what she should do. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Drink, and no sustaining food. 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. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. It is but a wild threat.
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