It was bad luck to go to Canongate. “Monsieur admires the poster?” As a rule Sir John treated such advances with cold silence. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm.
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