Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. If I were Mr. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. Do you indeed remember? The smell of decay and cheap methylated spirit!. Not a moment is to be lost.
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