The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. ” He recognized the force, almost the passion, which trembled in her tone, and he at once abandoned the subject. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. Two women entered and sat down at the adjoining table. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders.
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