Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. “Nothing. What is the matter with you?” Dunster had withdrawn discreetly. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still. She wished she had not stood up.
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