Mr. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky.
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