"Maybe he realized that he was slipping fast and thought a fine action might give him a hand-hold on life again. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. "I had a terrible dream last night. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. It was Annabel who spoke. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. The man pulled up. “You doubted me?” She joked.
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