"Mr. ” “I am going to pack my bag,” Anna answered. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. But now you must be quiet; there's been too much excitement. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say.
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