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A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. "All cannot be well, if this is true. My mother shall never degrade herself by a connection with you. A big breakfast is healthier anyway, so they say. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps.
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