"Victoria; that's the hotel. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. Sheppard, who seemed to be crouching upon the floor. He had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness.
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