She twanged the catgut under her fingers. " "I see. Only a son’s another story. His age was not far from fifty. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. Anna looked at her, startled.
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