Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. He sat down. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide.
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