He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity. Get out your pad and pencil. “I will go,” he said.
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