The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard.
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