Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. CHAPTER IX. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray.
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