So I ran away, blindly, knowing nothing of the world outside. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it.
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