Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. " Neither of the parties outside bestowed much attention upon these stately and salubriouslysituated mansions; indeed, as it was now not far from ten o'clock, and quite dark, they could scarcely discern them. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. \"Thanks for walking me home.
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