’ Still no response. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. People who would not go. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship.
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