There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Goodbye. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. Will you leave us for a few minutes?" "You are not going to be harsh?" "I wish to talk about the future. "But what, may I ask, arouses the thought?" The doctor was in high good humour.
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