" The Wastrel advanced. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows.
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