" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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