. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. Sanguine they were not. . I was one of the few. The doctor had not heard from his people. Mr. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind.
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