“I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. " "Footsteps are approaching," cried Thames.
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